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Blake Stevens is the Founder and CEO of Mother Nurture Greeneries in Honolulu, HI.
When I moved to Hawaii 7 years ago to start my fully organic closed loop cannabis farm, my main goal was to find a way to make my living while getting away from the continental U.S., and more specifically, the pollution (literally and figuratively) running rampant in L.A. I always fantasized about Island life, and while my ultimate dream of living fully off the land with zero waste — while growing my own cannabis, no less — was a struggle early on, I’ve found my way to give back to the Earth while doing my best to make sure we still have one to live on for generations to come.
But I have one problem: I’m running out of decent places to piss.
Sure, I have the most sustainably abundant high-rise rooftop weed farm in all of downtown Honolulu, but I have my problems, too. Caring about the planet can be a burden sometimes. I mean, if I didn’t give a shit, do you think I’d be driving a Hyundai Kona EV? Things would be so much easier if a Doc Brown-type figure would manifest with an engine that runs on waste, but until I get my hands on one of those, I’ve got to figure something out. My neighbors are pissed (no pun intended), and I have to go so bad sometimes that it hurts.
I even tried to get those assholes on my floor involved. Yes, my farm is a penthouse on the roof of a 30-story building, but I pay extra rent for that, Terry, and I don’t complain when you ash your American Spirits next to my prized plants. And his wife Nelly has stopped buying from me — she used to be one of my top customers. To be honest, they started acting strange as soon as I recommended they piss up there, too, but it wasn’t for me: it was for US*. I knew things went off the rails when they had a barbecue last week and didn’t even invite me. They used to love my Impossible Burgers, but now being homies with them doesn’t even seem possible.
I actually don’t mind pissing on the same plants — I’ve gotten pretty good at knowing when I’m on the verge of drowning them, and I’m pretty sure they’re infused enough with my DNA that I’ve created my very own strains at this point. But more and more neighbors are complaining about the smell, and my cats give me puzzled looks sometimes, as if I’ve already marked all the available territory. If only everyone else in my building started growing herb too, we’d have plenty of ways to use all my pee. I don’t understand why we can’t all just piss together in peace. (Not in a weird way, unless you think saving the planet makes me a nutbar.)
I’m not saying that I’m asking random people if they need anyone to piss on their plants, but I’m also not saying that. Sure, I could move to a bigger place, but I kind of love living on the 30th floor. Plus, I just got a new aquarium, and there’s a place right down the block that makes amazing Cubanos. I just want things to go back to the way they were before: I want to stop holding my tongue and my bladder. I want to be invited to barbecues. I want a better world, and I want my cats to stop giving me side-eye.
Anyway, I have to go take a leak, and when I say have to, I think I’ve literally gotten to that point of no return. I just hope my neighbors aren’t around.
*society
Johnny Sparkles is a Hawaii-born and based journalist, and stand up comedian whose debut album “Homeless Romantic” is available all over the internet. Twitter: @sparklesknows
